To Hunt a Ruby Remedy: A Grumpy/Sunshine Little Red Riding Hood Novella

Five - Scarlette

I baked aloaf of bread, hoping that action might be enough to help Ranulf thaw towards my presence. At supper the night before, he had answered every question I asked with either a single word or a grunt. I had taken the hint and stopped asking. Still, it was better than the first evening, when he hadn’t even remained at the table to eat.

His silences ate at me. I’d prefer he ranted, or even raged. I could deflect anger that was directed outward, but how was I to soften his mood if he always turned inward? Ignoring him wasn’t an option. Clearly, it wasn’t a challenge for him to ignore me, but the same was not true in reverse.

I was excruciatingly aware of Ranulf, even when he wasn’t in the same room as me.

With the bread made, I set to work on the rest of breakfast. If my first morning in the cottage was any indication, Ranulf would come downstairs within a quarter hour. A quick trip into the garden and hen house supplied me with all I needed. I set a pan over the fire and began chopping zucchini and pepper.

I transferred the vegetable omelets to plates right as I heard the trapdoor to the attic open. The kettle whistled over the fire, and I went to grab it.

Without a word, Ranulf carried the food to the table while I filled the mugs.

I expected nothing more than a gruff “thanks” when I sat. After last night, I knew better than to expect more than a single word, though I wouldn’t stop trying to thaw his attitude toward me.

He surprised me, therefore, with his effusive greeting. “Thank you for breakfast.”

I grinned. Maybe by the end of my stay, I’d be able to get five words at a time from him. “You’re welcome. The garden out back is lovely. Do you or Grandmother Molle tend it?”

“Mostly me. Grandmother will putter around every now and then, but she is much better at tending to people than plants.”

“I take it you prefer the plants? Is it because they can’t talk or because you can yank them out of the ground and throw them in the compost when they annoy you?”

Ranulf’s smile was small, a slight quirk of the lips, a twinkle in his eyes, but it was there. He didn’t force his mouth back into a straight line when he realized he had shown a hint of amusement, either. “Both.”

His one-word answer didn’t bother me this time. “Do you do a lot of foraging in the forest, too?”

“Yes, but that is mostly Grandmother. She usually forages and takes care of a few traps. I tend the garden and hunt when the traps aren’t enough.”

“And she bakes the bread.”

“Yes, but hers isn’t as good as yours. And I will deny it if you ever tell her I said that.”

We shared a brief look, a moment of silent laughter. Then Ranulf’s eyes shuttered. He stared at his plate, a line forming between his eyebrows.

I pretended I hadn’t noticed his change in mood. “Who does the rest of the cooking?”

He shrugged.

Great, now we were down to silent answers. I sighed and focused on my meal. Apparently, I had pushed too far. I just didn’t understand how. There hadn’t been a slow increase in annoyance or a sudden reaction to one comment. He shut down after answering me of his own volition.

When we finished, I gathered the dishes without a word and washed up. Ranulf opened his mouth when I took his plate, then shook his head and moved to a chair without saying anything.

I could feel his eyes on me as I cleaned. I snuck a peek at him whenever I could, but I never caught him looking. Instead, he was always focused on something cupped in his palms. The furrow in his brow grew deeper every time I checked.

When the dishes were clean, I wiped down the table. The glass cube I had brought three days ago still sat in the center of the pale wood. I glanced over at Ranulf and bit my tongue. Then I went back to the garden. I needed to get out before I demanded to know why he wasn’t working on my charm. Doubtless, he had several other talismans to make.

I said a quick prayer to Affenala and willed myself to believe that he would have it ready by the end of the week. Since I was in the garden, I decided to pick a few vegetables and start a pot of soup for later. I figured interrupting the healer would annoy him more than making the food without asking him first. He hadn’t seemed to mind my efforts for breakfast.

I tilted my face to the sky and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my skin. I soaked it up like a flower, turning the light into peace, rather than a blossom. Then I surveyed the options in the garden and decided what I would pick. While I worked, I began to hum.

I wished Mama and I could manage more than a window box. Working in the sunshine, the dirt under my fingertips, appealed to me. I didn’t have an apron or basket to load my selections in, so I pulled off my kerchief and made a bundle of vegetables with it.

Still humming, I carried my harvest into the kitchen and pumped water at the sink to clean off the dirt.

“What are you doing?”

A carrot dropped from my hands into the sink with a splash. I spun around to find Ranulf standing at the edge of the table. “I thought I’d make soup. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

He took a step back, looking as surprised as I was at how close he had come. “You don’t have to earn your keep here. You can rest.”

It sounded like a plea.

“I enjoy being helpful, but if you don’t want me to make the soup—”

“That’s not the issue.” He shoved his hand into his pocket, putting away the charm he had been working on. “Make the soup. Fine. I’m going to go out.”

Worry swelled as he made his way to the front door. “What about the charm for my mother? If I’m in the way, I’ll leave.”

“I can use the node outside the cottage.” He opened the door. “In fact, I’ll get more done outside. It will be easier to focus.”

He left.

I stared at the glass cube sitting untouched on the table and prayed that Grandmother Molle returned to the cottage soon.

I had alreadyeaten by the time Ranulf returned. Hoping that maybe he’d work on my charm that afternoon if I didn’t bother him, I retreated to the guest room. I knew that if I stayed near him, I’d give in to the urge to talk and ask him questions.

I tried to do as he had said earlier and rest, but idleness was not in my nature. I tidied, instead. The guest room doubled as a makeshift apothecary, as far as I could tell, and while everything was clearly labeled, it wasn’t organized.

I looked over everything carefully before moving the first jar. I didn’t want to ruin a system I didn’t understand, but I felt confident in my assessment that there wasn’t a system. Jars of the same ingredients dotted the shelves in multiple locations. A newer batch of one tincture had clearly been opened before the last batch had been finished. I couldn’t understand how the same person who had labeled everything so meticulously could stand to shove everything on the shelves with no rhyme or reason.

Perhaps it was due to the influence of two different people.

If I was going to organize, I might as well clean, too. I pulled the jars and bottles off the shelves and wiped everything down as best I could with the supplies I had in the room. I kept my movements as quiet as possible, not daring to let Ranulf hear even so much as the clink of glass on wood.

I had just finished, and was wondering if I should mention the supplies I had discovered that were labeled as past their use-by date or the ones that were so low another batch should probably be started, when Ranulf knocked on my door.

“Do you want supper?”

I smoothed my skirts and opened the door. “Yes, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You’re the one who made it. I just added a bit of rabbit to the soup.” He glanced past me and spotted the wall of jars and bottles. I braced myself for a rebuke. “You did all that today?”

“I sorted alphabetically, but if there is a better system, I can do that.”

“Alphabetically is fine. I can’t believe you organized it all. I gave up years ago. Grandmother makes a mess of it faster than I can straighten. Seeing it like this might finally convince her that keeping everything organized is worth the effort.” Ranulf stepped past me into the room and went directly to one of the jars that was nearly empty. “Feverfew powder. I thought we had another jar of this. I’ll add it to the list of things to replace.”

“There are a few others you might want to add.” I pointed at a bottle that was still three-quarters full. “That one said to use by midsummer of last year, for example.”

Ranulf looked at me for a long moment. “Maybe I’ll give you the list and you can update what we need. That way, I can focus my efforts on your charm.”

“I can do that.”

We filed out of the room and sat in our usual seats at the table. For a few minutes, we ate soup and bread in silence, but it was a different silence than I had experienced with him previously. It was comfortable. Companionable, even. I decided not to break our seeming truce, though the urge to speak was strong.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” Ranulf said into his half empty bowl. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. My first instinct was to apologize for bothering him, but I didn’t owe him an apology for existing. I didn’t apologize, but I was honest. “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“You aren’t . . .”

I raised an eyebrow as he trailed off. At least he had tried to reassure me, even if he couldn’t finish the sentence.

He laughed when he saw my expression, and I knew he wasn’t laughing at me, but himself. I let the sound fill me, transfixed by how it changed his entire demeanor. This wasn’t the grump who had thrown me out of the cottage or the healer who had stormed out this morning.

I had found him attractive before, but now? Now, he was devastating. Even if he hid behind a surly attitude again, I wouldn’t forget the sound of his laughter or the shape of his smile. For a moment, I thought about how fun it would be to spend my life coaxing that laugh out.

Then I remembered my mother. I was here for a few days more. Then I’d take my charm and return to my life, and Ranulf would celebrate the return of his solitude.

“All right, you are a distraction, but it isn’t your fault,” he continued. “I’m the one who can’t concentrate when there is a beautiful woman in the same room as me.”

I felt my cheeks heat and was shocked by my reaction. Men had complimented my body for years. At the tavern, they often accompanied their crude words with unwelcome touches, and my only reaction was a tight smile while I stepped out of reach. I didn’t blush at anything they said.

Being called beautiful by Ranulf felt different. He used the word so matter-of-factly that I felt almost innocent hearing it. For him, it was a truth, not something to exploit.

“I’ll stay in the guest room if that helps. I can . . .” I trailed off. What could I do in the guest room now that the healing supplies were sorted? Writing up the list of what was running low or no longer potent wouldn’t take much time.

“Considering that you accomplished a task that would have taken me days in a single afternoon, I suspect you’d be bored in there. I’m not sure what you’ll do elsewhere, either. You aren’t a maid here; you don’t have to clean everything.” He lifted his spoon. “Or cook, though I won’t object. Especially not to the bread.”

“I will gladly cook while I am here. Just let me know if I’m ruining your concentration.”

“I’ll manage.”

We fell silent again. I didn’t know what Ranulf was thinking, but dozens of questions about the node and charms and magic swirled through my head. I knew only the most basic facts about magic and wanted to ask everything. I opened my mouth, then realized that bombarding Ranulf with my questions was a surefire way to ruin the slice of harmony we had found.

I took a bite of bread instead of talking. When I finished chewing, another question nearly popped out before I caught myself. I shoved a spoonful of soup into my mouth.

Across from me, Ranulf’s shoulders shook. “Is it really that hard for you to not talk?”

I pressed my lips together and nodded.

“Go ahead. Say whatever it is.”

“You make charms and enchantments to sell in Wulfkin, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the enchantments are limited in what they can do?”

“Yes.”

“Why make both?”

“They serve different purposes.”

I studied my mostly eaten meal. Ranulf had invited me to speak, but he wasn’t one to satisfy my curiosity. My questions probably sounded pointless to him.

I heard the clack of his spoon as he set it on the table. I peeked through my eyelashes and found Ranulf studying me.

“Most mages with active powers don’t make charms.” He rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. “If a weather-changer made a charm, for example, it would cause a disaster. A charm, by definition, is a constant stream of mage-power. So, a weather-changing charm would bring on torrential rain, a never-ending windstorm, or drought. It does too much.”

“But an enchantment only calls on the power when activated.” I said.

“Exactly. It would take numerous enchantments to do what one charm can do, but they are controllable. Healing is somewhat unique among active powers. A charm will seek to heal the body touching it. If there isn’t bleeding to stop, then the power will knit a broken bone together without consequences. But it isn’t efficient. When a healer actively uses their magic, they direct the flow, targeting the injury. A charm can’t do that. It takes a much stronger charm, therefore, to accomplish the same feat.”

“Then why make a charm for my mother? Rosalia insisted I bring the glass cube to make the charm more powerful, but wouldn’t an enchantment be better?”

“Rosalia was right that you want the charm to be as powerful as possible. Cubes resonate with healing magic, making them better than the basic sphere. A gemstone is even better than glass, though. The reason to use a charm instead of an enchantment in your mother’s case is the consumption of power. I could make an enchantment that targets the tumor in her brain, and it would use less power to keep the growth in check than a charm. But an enchantment can only store so much power.”

I leaned forward. “What does that mean?”

The school in my village barely taught the basics of mage-powers. I knew more about the gods and goddesses associated with each power than how they were used. The practical applications were far more fascinating than the theological associations. I wanted to understand. For a moment, I even forgot that we were discussing the magic necessary to keep my mother healthy.

Ranulf cleared his throat and shifted his gaze over my shoulder. “Used non-stop, an enchantment will run out in no time. A charm stores power differently. The amount used to make it determines how long the charm will last, but once it is made, it uses that full amount of power the entire time. It doesn’t matter if the charm only treats a single bruise or heals dozens of broken bones. It has power for a certain length of time.”

“How long will a charm last?” I remembered that we weren’t discussing theory, but my mother’s life. Rosalia had said her charm would last a month. How much longer would a charm made with the power of a node last? And what would I do when it inevitably failed?

“Depends. Most mages can make charms that last a few weeks, maybe up to two months. The ones you brought to Wulfkin for me will each last about three months. The one I’m making for your mother should last years. I’ll have a better sense of exactly how long when I finish.”

Years. So long, and yet, not long enough. My mother wasn’t even fifty. A few years from now, how would we afford a replacement? I couldn’t keep returning to this cottage expecting charity.

I fell quiet again. My curiosity quashed under a wave of worry. Ranulf opened his mouth at one point, but then closed it again without breaking the silence. He finished his meal and carried his dishes to the sink.

He pumped water into the sink. “Too bad we don’t have anything for dessert. I should have picked some berries while I was out today.”

I brought my own dishes to the sink and tried to nudge him to the side, but he didn’t move. If he wouldn’t let me clean, then I’d have to focus on what he would let me do. “Berries? I can go foraging tomorrow. I could make a fruit pie.”

His lips barely moved, but the light in his eyes was as good as a grin. “I know a terrific blackberry patch. I’ll show you tomorrow.”